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VIEWS 


IN  THE 

WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 


WITH  DESCRirTIONS 

BY 

M.  F.  SWEETS ER. 


PORTLAND : 
C  M  I  S  H  O  L  M  BROTHERS. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S79, 
By  HUGH  J.  CHTSHOLM, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Wasliington. 


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PART 

PREFACE. 


HE  object  of  this  volume  is  to  afford  to  visitors  among  the 
White  Mountains  a  souvenir  of  their  grand  scenery,  as  well  as 
to  enable  those  who  have  not  yet  seen  them  to  obtain  an  idea  of 
their  exceeding  majesty  and  beauty.  In  the  snug  houses  on  the 
slopes  of  Beacon  Hill  and  Murray  Hill,  when  the  blasts  of  win- 
ter arc  sweeping  the  darkened  streets,  and  the  family  gathers  around  the 
evening  fireside,  these  views  may  serve  to  bring  back  the  memories  of  past 
days  of  summer  gladness,  and  renew  a  thousand  fading  impressions  of  beauty 
and  delight. 

In  one  respect  at  least,  and  that  an  important  one,  the  pictures  herein 
contained  are  superior  to  any  other  collection  of  illustrations  of  the  White 
Mountains.  They  are  in  no  way  idealized  or  exaggerated,  as  is  customary  in 
such  works,  but  present  faithful  transcripts  of  the  actual  scenes  as  .painted  by 
the  sun.  They  were  printed  by  the  heliotype  process  from  photographs  taken 
from  the  objects  themselves,  and  hence  are  as  nearly  accurate  as  it  is  possible 
to  have  them.  The  impressions  were  made  with  printers'  ink,  and  are  as  per- 
manent as  the  letter-press ;  so  that  the  fidelity  of  a  photograph  is  secured,  with- 
out its  perishability. 

It  is  also  hoped  that  the  descriptions  appended  to  the  pictures  may  be  of 
some  value,  as  showing  the  localities  of  the  various  scenes,  and  their  relations 
to  other  points  among  the  highlands.  If  ability  and  enthusiasm  always  went 
together  with  equal  step  and  parallel  course  (which  they  do  not),  these  notes 
would  be  not  altogether  unworthy  of  the  objects  that  they  commemorate,  since 
the  writer  has  been  for  years  an  ardent  lover  of  the  mountains,  and  has  explored 
their  highest  and  remotest  peaks,  and  their  deepest  and  most  terrible  ravines. 


CONTENTS. 


The  White  Mountains  —  an  Introductory  Sketch. 
Mount  Kiarsarge,  from  the  North-Conway  Intervales. 
Mount  Washington,  from  the  North-Conway  Intervales. 
The  Frankenstein  Trestle. 
The  Willey-Brook  Bridge. 
Crawford  Notch  and  Saco  Valley. 
Silver  Cascade.. 

The  Gate  of  the  Notch,  and  the  Crawford  House. 
Jacob's  Ladder,  Mount-Washington  Railway. 
Lizzie  Bourne's  Monument. 
The  Glen  House. 
The  Glen-Ellis  Falls. 

Mount  Washington,  from  the  Glen  House. 
Echo  Lake,  Franconia  Notch. 

The  Franconia  Notch,  Echo  Lake,  and  the  Profile  House. 
The  Profile,  or  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain. 
The  Flume. 


THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 

NTHONY  TROLLOPE,  the  charming  English  novelist  and 
delineator  of  life  in  the  old  cathedral-towns,  once  frankly  con- 
fessed that  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  the  White  Mountains  were 
a  sort  of  link  between  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Allegha- 
nies,  inhabited  by  Mormons,  Indians,  or  black  bears  ;  and  then 
goes  on  to  say,  "That  there  was  a  district  in  New  England 
containing  mountain-scenery  snperioj'  to  much  that  is  yearly  crowded  by  tour- 
ists in  Europe y  that  this  is  to  be  reached  with  ease  by  railways  and  stage- 
coaches, and  that  it  is  dotted  with  huge  hotels  almost  as  thickly  as  they  lie 
in  Switzerland,  I  had  no  idea." 

This  region,  which  already  enjoys  a  transatlantic  fame,  covers  an  area  of 
over  twelve  hundred  square  miles,  bounded  in  a  large  way  by  the  lake-country 
of  New  Hampshire  on  the  south,  and  the  Connecticut  Valley  on  the  west  and 
north.  The  eastern  limits  are  less  easily  determined,  since  the  mountain  sys- 
tem of  Maine  is  interlocked  with  the^  northern  White  Mountains,  and  stretches 
away  to  the  north-east  for  over  a  hundred  miles.  The  Edinburgh  encyclo- 
pedist, indeed,  calls  Mount  Katahdin  the  eastern  outpost  of  the  range;  but  the 
peaks  in  Maine  are  in  semi-detached  groups,  separated  by  wide  valleys,  and  so 
remote  in  the  wilderness  that  they  are  seldom  visited  by  tourists.  The  White 
Mountains,  as  regarded  by  unscientific  persons  (and  map-makers  as  well),  stop 
at  the  border  of  Maine. 

Although  actually  nearer  the  equator  than  Mont  Blanc  is,  and  on  the 
same  parallel  as  Bordeaux,  Bologna,  Genoa,  and  Belgrade,  the  climate  of  this 
region  is  much  more  severe  than  that  of  Switzerland  at  the  same  altitudes, 
and  the  alpine  region  is  encountered  at  lower  levels.  If  the  summit  of  Mount 
Washington  were  two  thousand  feet  higher,  it  would  be  covered  with  perpetual 
snow,  even  in  the  face  of  the  summer  sun  of  America.  As  it  is,  the  snow- 
banks remain  about  the  head  of  Tuckerman's  Ravine  throughout  June  and 


The  White  Motmtains. 


July,  hundreds  of  feet  long,  and  in  their  lower  parts  hardened  into  glacial  ice. 
The  sudden  changes  of  temperature  thus  induced  between  points  but  a  few 
miles  apart  give  rise  to  astonishing  varieties  in  the  fauna  and  flora  of  the 
region,  which  have  deeply  interested  the  botanists  and  entomologists  of  adja- 
cent States,  and  called  forth  their  careful  study.  The  sumptuous  volumes 
recently  published  by  the  State  of  New  Hampshire,  under  the  direction  of  Pro- 
fessor Hitchcock,  contain  minute  descriptions  of*  the  plants  and  insects  found 
upon  the  highlands,  with  the  fullest  details  of  the  geology  and  climatology 
thereof.  The  flora  is  that  of  the  Canadian  division,  as  distinguished  from  the 
Alleghanian  division,  which  stops  at  Lake  Winnepesaukee  and  North  Conway ; 
and  its  chief  members  are  the  pines  and  cedars,  darkening  the  mountain- 
•  slopes;  the  maples,  birches,  and  oaks,  enriching  the  autumnal  landscape  with 
most  glorious  color ;  and  the  elms,  which  so  adorn  the  meadows  of  Conway 
and  Lancaster.  Ferns  and  flowers  of  great  variety  ornament  the  glens,  and 
infinite  quantities  of  delicious  berries  are  found  on  the  ridges.  There  are  fifty 
species  of  alpine  plants,  which  are  found  nowhere  in  New  England  save  on 
these  highlands:  and  a  careful  writer  on  the  subject  has  said,  **The  wind- 
swept summits  of  our  White  Mountains  are  to  the  botanist  the  most  interesting 
locality  east  of  the  Mississippi ;  for  there  are  found  the  lingering  remnants  of 
a  flora  once  common,  probably,  to  all  New  England,  but  which,  since  the  close 
of  the  glacial  epoch,  has,  with  few  exceptions,  retreated  to  Arctic  America." 

The  geological  history  of  the  district  is  very  interesting,  and  has  been 
recorded  by  some  of  the  foremost  scientific  men  in  America  and  England. 
Floods  of  molten  rock  have  poured  over  the  country,  level  as  a  lake,  hotter 
than  Phlegethon,  and  hardening  into  va^t  areas  of  granite.  Centuries,  or  it 
may  have  been  hundreds  of  centuries,  later,  the  ocean  swept  its  blue  tides 
around  the  bases  and  far  up  into  the  passes  of  the  mountains,  leaving  there  its 
sedimentary  rocks  and  marine  fossils  to  bear  testimony  to  the  great  invasion. 
The  White  Mountains  were  a  group  of  islands,  on  whose  rocky  shores  the 
ancient  sea  broke,  carving  the  record  of  its  victory  as  legibly  as  Trajan  in- 
scribed his  triumphs  on  the  Iron  Gates  of  the  Danube.  Next  came  the  glacial 
age,  when  New  Hampshire  suftered  the  climate  and  possessed  the  appearance 
of  Greenland,  buried  under  thousands  of  feet  of  ice,  a  huge  pall  of  death, 
enduring  for  centuries,  and  slowly  moving  toward  the  south  with  irresistible 
force. 

Out  of  all  these  convulsions  Nature  at  last  wrought  her  perfect  work,  and 
prepared  the  land  for  the  dwelling  of  man.  He,  in  turn,  began  a  career  of 
improving  and  changing  the  face  of  the  hills,  and  governing  their  life.  The 


The  White  Mountains. 


wolf  and  the  mountain-lynx,  once  so  common  here,  are  now  as  extinct  as  the 
dodo,  or  as  the  luckless  Indians  whose  wigwams  arose  by  the  corn-fields  on 
the  intervales.  The  echoes  of  the  rangers'  rifles  have  been  taken  up  by  the 
roar  of  blasting-powder,  opening  pathways  for  commerce  and  travel  through 
the  dark  defiles  ;  and  this,  in  turn,  is  replaced  by  the  long  screech  of  locomo- 
tives storming  up  the  slopes. 

Every  surveying-party  which  returns  to  Washington  from  the  Far  West 
brings  tidings  of  some  new  region  of  natural  wonders,  stupendous  mountains, 
dizzy  gorges,  thunderous  waterfalls,  until  at  last  we  have  surpassed  the  Alps, 
and  emulate  the  Caucasus.  Some  one  once  called  the  White  Mountains 
*'  the  Switzerland  of  America,"  and  the  foolish  phrase  has  since  been  on 
every  lip.  It  is  not  quite  clear  why  we  should  have  a  "Switzerland  of 
America"  (at  least  until  the  Revue  dcs  Deux  Mondes  finds  a  "Yo-Semite 
of  Europe  ") ;  but,  if  the  phrase  must  be  used,  it  belongs  to  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
or  the  Snowy  Range  of  Colorado. 

The  chief  mountain-resort  of  America,  however,  will  remain  in  New 
Hampshire  for  many  decades,  whatever  superior  attractions  the  Western 
lands  may  develop,  because  the  largest  cities  of  the  continent  are  within  a 
day's  ride,  and  hundreds  of  populous  towns  are  almost  within  sight.  Several 
first-class  railroads  reach  the  edge  of  the  district,  and  one  of  them  penetrates 
it  from  side  to  side,  affording  the  best  opportunities  for  reaching  the  sweet 
l)astoral  villages  of  the  plains  or  the  dark  glens  beyond.  From  these  grand 
routes  stage-roads  and  turnpikes  stretchr  away  in  other  directions,  and  logging- 
roads  enter  the  deep  woods.  These,  in  turn,  interlace  with  scores  of  paths  cut 
through  the  forests  and  upon  the  mountains  by  the  hotel-keepers  and  villagers, 
for  the  sole  object  of  making  easy  the  ways  to  scenes  of  grandeur  and  beauty. 
The  Appalachian  Mountain  Club  has  had  several  important  paths  constructed 
of  late  years,  devising  their  routes  with  great  skill,  and  directing  them  upon 
noble  view-points.  Within  the  region  thus  developed  there  are  nine  hotels 
of  the  first  class,  accommodating  from"  three  hundred  to  five  hundred  guests 
each  ;  a  score  or  more  of  second-class  houses  ;  and  hundreds  of  boarding- 
houses,  varying  in  pretensions,  from  the  well-supplied  pensions  of  North  Con- 
way and  Bethlehem  to  the  old-fashioned  farm-houses  of  the  hill-people.  The 
villages  just  mentioned  can  accommodate  more  than  twelve  hundred  guests 
each  at  one  time  ;  and  the  hamlets  of  Gorham,  Campton,  Lancaster,  Fran- 
conia,  Conway,  Jefferson  Hill,  and  Jackson,  have  quarters  for  many  hundreds 
more  All  tastes  and  purses  may  now  be  suited  in  the  wide  variety  which 
ran-es  from  the  palatial  luxuries  of  the  great  hotels  at  five  dollars  a  day 


The  White  Mountains, 


to  the  antique  simplicity  of  the  sequestered  farm-houses  at  five  dollars  a  week. 
There  is  also  every  variety  of  scenery  here,  amid  which  the  summer  loiterer 
may  find  the  charms  most  congenial  to  his  spirit,  or  combine  their  varying 
beauties  in  a  rich  contrast  of  effects.  Does  he  seek  the  sweet  and  reposeful 
contiguity  of  emerald  meadows,  dotted  with  most  exquisitely  shaped  trees, 
and  overlooked  by  distant  blue  peaks?  —  then  let  him  find  out  Fryeburg  on 
the  east,  nestling  by  the  fair  and  fruitful  intervales  of  the  Saco ;  or  Lancaster 
on  the  west,  the  queen  of  the  upper  Connecticut  Valley.  Must  he  have  blue 
waters  of  highland  lakes  to  mirror  the  mountain-forms  while  he  floats  over 
the  liquid  crystal  in  some  dainty  little  boat,  deriding  Fahrenheit.'^  —  let  him 
seek  Centre  Harbor,  on  many-islanded  Winnepesaukee ;  or  the  lonely  inn 
which  looks  down  upon  the  reflection  of  the  proud  purple  peak  of  Chocorua, 
in  the  lake  below ;  or  the  beautiful  tarns  higher  up  in  the  hill-country,  at 
the  bases  of  the  main  ranges.  Does  he  crave  the  most  poetic  and  fasci- 
nating view  of  the  great  group  of  peaks,  seen  C7i  famillc,  and  at  such  a  dis- 
tance, that  all  their  ruggedness  and  savagery  are  replaced  by  soft  veiling  tints 
and  rare  atmospheric  effects.^  —  such  grace  he  shall  find  at  North  Conway 
and  Bethlehem,  Shelburne  and  Jefferson  Hill,  and,  better  than  all  others,  at 
Sugar  Hill.  Nor  should  he  forget  Bethel,  the  ancient  hamlet  by  the  Andros- 
coggin ;  and  Campton,  viewing  the  grand  Sandwich  peaks  up  the  Mad-River 
Valley;  and  Littleton,  commanding  such  glorious  vistas  from  her  inwalling 
hills.  But  the  majority  of  travellers  prefer  to  come  into  the  immediate  pres- 
ence of  the  highest  mountains,  to  face  their  frowning  cliffs,  be  overshadowed 
by  their  immense  ridges,  and  hear  the  music  of  their  white  cascades.  For 
these  there  is  Jackson,  lifting  its  little  church-spire  in  a  wild  and  solitary 
glen  ;  Waterville,  hemmed  in  by  lofty  and  noble  peaks  and  solemn  ridges ; 
the  Glen  House,  in  face  of  the  Presidential  Range ;  the  Profile  House, 
surrounded  by  the  rarest  curiosities  of  nature  ;  and  the  Crawford  and  Fabyan 
Houses,  overlooked  by  the  supreme  summits  of  the  highlands.  In  such  a 
delightful  region,  who  can  go  amiss  ? 


MOUNT  KIARSARGE.  FROM  THE  NORTH- 
CONWAY  INTERVALES. 


BOUT  a  mile  south  of  North  Conway  stands  the  ancient  inn 
which  is  kept  by  John  McMillan,  overarched  by  magnificent 
trees,  and  drawing  its  long  wings  back  from  the  road  in  rural 
and  baronial  seclusion.  Below  it  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
Conway  meadows  sweep  away  towards  the  Saco,  dotted  with 
vase-like  elm-trees,  —  the  pride  of  our  American  flora,  —  and 
traversed  by  winding  footpaths  which  seek  the  shores  of  the  stream.  The 
l)icture  attests  how  charming  is  the  view  from  these  rambles,  where  the  rich 
and  narrow  plains,  the  inimitably  graceful  trees,  the  limpid  flowing  river,  and 
the  high  blue  mountains  beyond,  compete  for  the  admiration  of  the  true  seer, 
and  form  endlessly  changing  arrangements  of  form  and  color.  These  meadows 
have  often  been  likened  to  English  parks,  so  finished  is  their  beauty. 

The  great  Kiarsarge  House  and  the  white  buildings  of  North  Conway 
gleam  here  and  there  through  the  trees  ;  and  over  them  rises  the  graceful  and 
symmetrical  Mount  Kiarsarge,  the  queen  of  the  Saco  Valley,  crested  with  its 
weather-beaten  old  hotel.  As  the  rambler  moves  onward  down  the  grassy 
l)ath,  now  the  i)allid  ledges  of  the  fortress-like  Moat  Mountain  come  in  view, 
or  the  red  spires  of  legend-haunted  Chocorua,  or  the  far-away  line  of  the  Presi- 
tlential  Range,  closing  along  the  northern  horizon.  There  are  others  who 
prefer  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  Cathedral  Woods,  north  of  the  village,  where 
the  silence  is  cadenced  by  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  the  tops  of  the 
tall  trees,  and  the  air  is  filled  with  the  perfume  of  innumerable  pines.  To 
the  south  are  the  luxuriant  forests  which  surround  Artist's  Falls,  and  surge  up 
along  the  slopes  of  the  Green  Hills;  and  beyond  the  river  are  the  falls  and 
lakelets  and  cliffs  which  environ  Moat  Mountain. 

The  Indian  village  of  Auket,  which  stood  on  a  peninsula  by  the  Saco,  a 
mile  or  two  from  the  present  village,  has  vanished  utterly;  and  now  a  line  of 
hotels  occupies  the  terrace  over  the  intervales.  So  manifold  are  the  charms 
of  the  place,  that  thousands  of  people  sojourn  here  every  summer  in  spite  of 
the  heat,  the  sand,  and  the  railroads,  and  enjoy  the  manifold  rambles  in  the 
vicinity  ;  for  no  other  White-Mountain  village  has  such  a  number  and  variety 
of  environing  attractions.  Year  by  year  stately  country-houses  and  pretty 
villas  are  being  erected  in  the  vicinity  ;  and  the  time  may  come  when  North 
Conway  shall  have  added  to  her  other  attractions  the  scrupulous  neatness  and 
dainty  finish  of  Stockbridge  or  Lucerne,  and  regained  her  ancient  pre  eminence 
amon^r  the  mountain-resorts  of  America. 


MOUNT  WASHINGTON,  FROM  THE  NORTH- 
CONWAY  INTERVALES. 


'HE  most  beautiful  and  artistic  view  of  the  lofty  crest  of  Wash- 
ington is  obtained  from  the  smiling  meadows  where  the  Saco 
River  emerges  from  the  mountain-region,  rolling  its  sinuous 
silver  flood  between  the  tall  portals  of  Moat  Mountain  and  the 
Green  Hills.  The  shaggy  lines  of  the  adjacent  heights  flow 
downward  to  the  bright  valley  in  long  and  graceliil  curves,  and 
form  a  noble  framework  for  the  majestic  peaks  in  the  North,  which  loom  up- 
ward through  the  dreamy  air  like  a  vast  earth-wave,  dominated  by  the  Alpine 
hamlet  about  the  Summit  House.  The  profound  ravines  are  hidden,  and  the 
high  peaks  and  sharp  aiguilles  are  apparently  merged  in  the  great  mass  behind 
tliem  ;  so  that  the  Presidential  Range  looks  down  on  the  Conway  glens  with  a 
gentle  and  benignant  mien,  as  if  to  tempt  the  advances  of  the  mountain-lovers, 
and  to  woo  them  from  the  sweet  delights  of  the  elm-sprinkled  plains.  It  is 
this  rai-e  pros[)ect,  in  which  the  wondrous  highlands  are  combined  with  a  deli- 
cious foreground,  that  has  made  North  Conway  famous,  and  has  caused  an 
obscure  farming-hamlet  to  develop  into  the  great  summer-resort  of  to-day. 

In  ever-varying  forms  the  views  are  obtained  from  scores  of  points  in  and 
about  the  vihage  ;  but  the  favorite  location  for  the  east^ls  of  the  artists  is  on  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  Saco,  not  far  from  the  bridge,  and  countless  interpretations 
of  the  great  silent  poem  of  creation  have  been  recorded  there.  In  the  fore- 
ground the  mountain-born  river  flows  smoothly  downward,  blue,  or  silver,  or 
gray,  in  the  changing  moods  of  the  sun  and  sky,  and  lapsing  along  pebbly 
beaches  and  under  overhanging  trees,  with  clear  and  crystalline  waters  which 
are  almost  as  transparent  as  New-England  air.  Up  this  shining  pathway  the 
eye  swiftly  travels,  and  over  a  fringe  of  deep-green  woods,  until  it  rests  upon 
the  long  walls  of  the  Great  Range,  dappled,  it  may  be,  with  snow,  or  coiffed 
with  clouds  ;  inwrapped  with  gold  by  the  morning  sun,  deep-blue  under  the 
shadows  of  late  afternoon,  or  gray  and  black  when  storms  are  breaking  along 
the  ridge.  On  a  calm  and  tranquil  day  of  midsummer,  when  the  land  is  bask- 
ing in\land  sunshine,  the  scene  has  a  placid,  idyllic  beauty,  such  as  Gains- 
bon)ugh  would  have  rejoiced  in  ;  and  scores  of  summer-loiterers  visit  the 
river-side  to  see  the  tender  blue  of  the  mountain-walls  rise  upward,  as  if  "in 
distance  and  in  dream."  In  October,  the  moon  of  red  leaves,  the  scene  is 
indescribably  lovely,  combining  its  vivid  colors  and  grand  outlines  under  the 
magic  light  which  falls  through  the  clear  autumnal  air,  — that  "exquisite  bright 
light  air""  which  Charles  Dickens  regarded  as  peculiar  to  New  England. 


THE  FRANKENSTEIN  TRESTLE. 


HK  line  of  the  Portland  and  Ogdensburg  Railroad,  north  of  Bemis 
Station,  crosses  the  bright  brook  which  descends  from  the  Are- 
thusa  Falls,  and  then  traverses  a  series  of  cuts  in  the  rocky 
flank  of  Mount  Nancy.  Suddenly  the  train  emerges  from  the 
last  of  these  trenches,  and  seems  to  leap  boldly  out  into  the 
air  over  a  deep  ravine  which  yawns  below,  flying  at  the  face 
of  the  Frankenstein  Cliff  beyond.  The  amazed  traveller,  looking  dow^nward 
from  the  car-window,  sees  beneath  a  graceful  and  slender  bridge  supported 
on  web-like  iron  piers  which  rise  from  the  floor  of  the  gorge,  nearly  eighty 
feet  below.  The  train  flies  for  five  hundred  feet  over  this  mid-air  path,  and 
then  moves  on  to  the  substantial  foundations  beyond. 

Ex'cn  this  silent  and  solitary  region  has  its  romantic  fables  and  its 
enchanted  glens.  One  of  the  weirdest  and  most  beautiful  of  the  many  Indian 
legends  which  pertain  to  the  White  Hills  is  that  relating  to  the  mystery  of 
the  Great  Carbuncle,  whose  existence  has  been  firmly  believed  in,  within  less 
than  a  century,  by  the  yeomen  of  Western  Maine.  Hawthorne  has  used  this 
theme  as  the  basis  of  one  of  his  inimitable  "Twice-Told  Tales,"  introducing 
the  Lord  de  Vere,  Doctor  Cacaphodcl,  and  Master  Ichabod  Pigsnort,  among 
the  seekers  for  the  marvellous  gem.  The.  most  ancient  traditions  tell  that  this 
ol)ject  of  such  great  desires  was  hidden  in  the  glen  of  Dry  (or  Mount-Wash- 
ington) River,  which  debouches  into  the  Saco  nearly  opposite  Frankenstein 
Cliff,  whence  it  flashed  its  baleful  light  far  over  the  lowlands,  startling  the 
rangers  in  their  lonely  night-camps,  or  arousing  the  pioneer  farmers  sleeping 
in  their  log-huts  in  the  Saco  Valley.  One  of  the  old  chronicles  quaintly 
says,  "  Hearing  that  a  glorious  carbuncle  had  been  found  under  a  large  shelv- 
ing rock,  difficult  to  obtain,  placed  there  by  the  Indians,  who  killed  one  of 
their  number  that  an  evil  spirit  might  haunt  the  place,  wc  went  up  Dry  River 
with  guides,  and  had  with  us  a  good  man  to  lay  the  evil  spirit  ;  but  returned 
sorely  bruised,  treasureless,  and  not  even  saw  that  wonderful  sight." 

Near  the  head  of  the  same  ravine  one  of  the- ancient  hunters  who  dwelt 
among  these  hills  claimed  to  have  found  two  immense  ledges,  so  overlaid 
with  pure  diamonds  that  their  intense  light  blinded  him.  He  carried  out 
such  bits  as  could  be  broken  away,  and  sold  them  for  a  great  price ;  but 
neither  he  nor  the  adventurous  seekers  who  followed  his  track  could  ever  find 
the  treasure  again.  Occasionally  a  hardy  fisherman  enters  the  glen  in  our 
day,  and  returns  with  stores  of  shining  trout,  and  mayhap  a  handful  of  glit- 
tering quartz-crystals. 


THE  WILLEY-BROOK  BRIDGE. 


IIK  Willcy  Brook  flows  out  of  the  wild  and  narrow  ravine 
between  Mount  Willard  and  Mount  Willey,  and  descends  rapid- 
ly, through  a  tangled  wilderness  of  rocks  and  trees,  to  the  Saco 
River.  Where  the  Portland  and  Ogdensburg  Railroad  claims  a 
passage  over  the  gorge  the  engineers  have  constructed  a  grace- 
ful bridge,  which  spans  the  grim  depths  eighty-five  feet  above 
the  brook.  In  the  centre  is  a  ponderous  pier  of  the  local  granite,  laid  in 
cement,  and  separating  the  two  sections, — one  of  which  is  a  wooden  trestle; 
while  the  other  is  an  iron-decked  bridge,  a  riveted  lattice  girder  of  a  trape- 
zoidal cross-section,  and  a  clear  span  of  one  hundred  and  forty  feet.  This  beau- 
tiful work  was  made  in  Buffalo,  and  will  doubtless  be  prolonged  over  the  chasm 
now  covered  by  the  trestle. 

Across  this  apparently  delicate  and  fragile  structure  of  spun  threads  of 
iron,  which  appears  from  a  distance  like  a  mere  cobweb,  thousands  on  thou- 
sands of  heavy  trains  have  rushed,  filling  the  ravine  with  deep-voiced  echoes 
and  roarings,  but  leaving  no  wreckage  within  its  rocky  depths.  What  a  mar- 
vellous achievement  is  this  line  of  railroad,  which  has  cut  for  itself  a  shelf 
leagues  long  upon  the  face  of  the  high  cliffs,  and  allows  its  passengers  to  look 
(lown  upon  the  dark  glens  far  below  as  the  bird  gazes  from  mid-flight  upon  the 
jilains  beneath!  There  are  bridges  seemingly  as  perilous  as  the  Oriental  Al- 
Sirat,  above  shadowy  ravines  ;  long  embankments,  over  which  the  cars  boom 
upward  through  the  forest;  and  broad  curves,  around  which  the  line  swings 
closely,  to  follow  the  trend  of  the  ridges. 

This  section  of  the  route  has  been  likened  by  some  travellers  to  the  Italian 
railroad  which  crosses  the  Apennines  from  Bologna  to  Florence.  But  this  is 
surely  an  excess  of  eulogy  :  for  the  American  route  has  only  the  striking  features 
of  a  wild  and  savage  grandeur  ;  while  the  other  unites  to  these  the  superb  and 
really  notable  finish  of  the  road-bed  and  bridges,  the  views  afar  over  Tuscan 
plains,  and  the  presence  of  the  weird  forests  of  the  peninsular  ranges.  More 
resemblance  may  be  found  between  our  road  and  the  line  which  pierces  the 
Jura  Mountains  between  Pontarlier  and  Lausanne,  where  the  manifold  beau- 
ties of  the  northern  cantons  are  unchilled  by  the  glaciers  towards  Savoy. 


THE  WHITE-MOUNTAIN  NOTCH,  FROM 
ELEPHANT'S  HEAD. 


NE  of  the  most  impressive  views  in  the  White  Mountains,  or, 
on  the  authority  of  Bayard  Taylor  and  Anthony  Trollope,  in 
any  land  of  peaks  and  passes,  is  that  which  is  enjoyed  from 
the  summit  of  Mount  Willard,  easily  accessible  by  a  carriage- 
road  from  the  Crawford  House,  and  of  inconsiderable  height. 
The  profound  gulf  of  the  Notch  stretches  away  to  the  south, 
flanked  by  proud  and  picturesque  mountain-forms,  carpeted  with  ancient  forests, 
and  terminated  by  the  glorious  purple  peak  of  Chocorua.  From  such  simple 
and  yet  grandiose  elements  as  these  is  formed  a  prospect  which  overflows 
with  sublimity,  and  fills  the  heart  of  the  beholder  with  amazement  and  awe. 

Somewhat  similar  to  this  famous  view,  though  less  vast,  and  hence  better 
ada|)ted  for  pictorial  representation,  is  the  outlook  from  Elephantis  Head,  the 
great  rock  on  the  east  of  the  Gate  of  the  Notch.  Here  the  pass  seems  to 
be  inwalled  by  the  huge  mass  of  Mount  Webster  on  the  left  and  the  cliffy 
sides  of  Mount  Willard  on  the  right,  with  Mount  Willey  beyond,  sloping 
away  to  the  long  plateau  which  infolds  Ethan's  Pond,  and  is  overlooked  by 
the  blue  swells  of  Mount  Nancy.  Houses  or  clearings  there  are  none:  the 
road  is  hidden  under  the  overarching  woods ;  and  even  the  Saco  is  invisible, 
and  Its  presence  is  attested  only  by  the  murmur  of  falling  waters.  The  vague 
grandeur  of  the  scene  would  have  delighted  Turner;  its  savage  wildness  would 
have  charmed  the  pencil  of  Salvator  Rosa. 

But  in  the  very  centre  of  the  picture  the  rocks  are  seen  rent  apart  as 
if  by  some  terrible  convulsion  of  Nature  ;  and  between  them  are  the  firm  and 
curving  lines  of  a  railway,  whose  prolonged  grades  are  indicated  by  the  level 
galleries  on  the  slopes  beyond,  even  to  the  foot  of  the  pass.  In  one  of  his 
great  paintings  of  Eden-like  Italian  scenery  Poussin  placed  a  solemn  monu- 
mental tomb,^  on  which  he  inscribed,  Et  in  Arcadia  ego.  In  like  discordant 
manner  the  genius  of  our  age  has  introduced  into  this  quondam  Arcadia  of 
the  wolf,  the  bear,  and  the^  mountain-lynx,  its  firmly-drawn  hieroglyphs  of 
iron,  marking,  however,  the  advent  of  a  new  and  thrilling  life.  The  galleys 
of  Tyre  and  the  triremes  of  Rome  have  passed  away,  the  Appian  and  Fla- 
minian  Ways  have  been  reclaimed  by  the  thickets  and  groves  of  Nature,  and 
the  diligences  of  Montaigne's  day  are  as  obsolete  as  Trajan's  chariots.  The 
Spirit  of  Steam  has  made  of  the  oceans  mere  ferry-tracks,  and  of  the  moun- 
tains beds  of  grading-material ;  and  sends  its  fiery  coursers  alike  through  the 
Sierra  Nevada'and  the  valley  of  the  Euj^hrates,  along  the  plains  of  Peshawur 
and  the  South-Sea  strand  of  New  Zealand. 


Vhk  Silver  Cascade 


THE  SILVER  CASCADE. 


T  seems  that  the  purple  cliffs  of  Mount  Willard,  the  deep-green 
slopes  of  Clinton,  and  the  brilliant  plaids  of  Webster,  were  not 
enough  to  fill  Nature's  scheme  of  color  ;  and  so  she  added  the 
clear  and  flashing  beauties  of  the  Silver  Cascade,  which  lightens 
up  the  comparative  gloom  of  the  heavy  Notch-walls.  The  brook 
takes  its  rise  up  very  near  the  summit  of  Mount  Webster,  on 
the  lonely  plateau  from  which  the  square-sided  rocky  peak  of  Mount  Jackson 
rises  like  a  forgotten  altar  of  the  giants.  Skilful  climbers  have  clambered  up 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  breathless  and  bruised,  but  with  many  a  noble  retro- 
spect, until  they  have  reached  the  summit  of  Webster,  and  looked  down  into 
the  vast  bowl  of  the  Notch,  and  across  on  the  keen  aiguille  of  Mount  Wdley. 

The  Arcthusa  Falls,  a  little  way  farther  down  the  Notch,  and  separated 
from  the  road  by  a  single  (but  difficult)  mile,  leap  clearly  over  the  impending 
edge  of  a  cliff  a  hundred  and  seventy-six  feet  high;  but  the  Silver  Cascade 
avoids  ])lunging,  save  for  short  distances,  and  contents  itself  with  gliding  and 
sliding  over  the  polished  surfaces  of  the  long  inclined  ledges,  with  occasional 
rests  in  deep  pools  of  beryl  tint,  surrounded  by  curbings  of  mossy  rocks,  and 
canopied  by  the  bending  boughs  of  forest-trees.  Thus,  within  a  mile  of 
advance,  the  stream '  descends  more  than  a  thousand  feet,  decorating  Mount 
Webster  with  a  bar-dexter  argent,  visible  from  miles  away  down  the  Notch, 
As  it  nears  the  road,  the  lapsing  water  makes  a  direct  plunge  of  twenty  feet, 
over  a  mimic  cliff,  with  a  great  noise  and  commotion;  and  then  hides  itself  in 
a  deep  flume  which  it  has  worn  in  the  ledges,  and  darts  under  the  bridge  on  the 
Tenth  New-Hampshire  Turnpike,  a  mile  from  the  sybaritic  cloisters  of  the 
Crawford  House. 

In  dry  weather,  this  locality  should  be  visited  to  study  what  the  brook  has 
(lone, —the  wide  lane  cut  through  the  forest,  the  sculptured  rocks,  the  flume 
and  basins.  After  heavy  rains,  the  falling  waters  cover  all  these  things  with  a 
mantle  of  silvery  sheen,  and  form  a  long  column  of  glancing  white  light,  reach- 
ing almost  to  the  thickets  on  the  mountain's  brow. 


'I'liK  (Iatk  ()!■  inK  NoicH,  AND  rnK  Crawford  House. 


THE  RAILWAY  CUT  AT  THE  GATE  OF  THE 

NOTCH. 


OW  changed  are  the  conditions  since  Darby  Field  spent  eigh- 
teen days  of  arduous  marching  to  reach  the  top  of  Mount 
Washington  from  Portsmouth,  and  Dr.  Belknap's  party  pain- 
fully traversed  the  Pinkham  Notch  on  horseback  at  the  rate 
of  a  mile  and  a  half  an  hour!  Now  the  traveller  may  breakfast 
at  Boston  or  Portland,  and  take  his  supper  at  the  Summit 
House,  having  passed  the  intermediate  hours  reclining  among  the  cushions  of  a 
palace-car.  P'or  such  conveniences  as  these  we  may  forgive  the  railroads  even 
so  great  a  sacrilege  as  the  mutilation  of  the  Conway  meadows,  since  through 
their  agency  this  region  of  manifold  delights  has  been  made  known  to  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  travellers,  and  now  numbers  far  more  visitors  than  North 
Wales  or  the  Trosachs. 

The  route  from  Portland  to  the  borders  of  New  York  and  Canada  runs 
through  the  very  heart  of  the  mountain-district,  and  reaches  its  highest  level 
not  far  from  the  Crawford  House,  where  the  rails  are  nearly  1,900  feet  above 
the  sea.  A  short  distance  to  the  south  is  the  Gate  of  the  White-Mountain 
Notch,  that  remarkable  phenomenon,  which  is  so  conspicuously  seen  from  the 
front  of  the  Crawford  House,  with  the  long  flanks  of  Mounts  Willard  and  Jack- 
son sloping  their  green  escarpments  down  to  the  precipitous  sides  of  the  open- 
ing. At  this  point  the  engineers  had  great  difficulty  in  locating  their  route  ; 
and,  rather  than  attempt  the  sharp  curves  and  cuttings  necessary  to  carry  the 
line  by  Dismal  Pool  and  through  the  narrow  pass  beyond,  they  directly 
attacked  the  adamantine  rock  of  Mount  Willard,  and  cut  their  way  through 
at  enormous  expense.  Thus  a  second  gate  was  formed,  separated  from  the 
old  one  by  a  massive  pier  of  rock,  and  giving  free  passage  to  the  frequent  and 
ponderous  trains  of  the  Portland  and  Ogdensburg  Railroad.  The  passage 
of  the  White-Mountam  Notch  by  this  great  iron  highway  was  a  victory  of 
science,  and  merits  the  erection  of  a  trophy,  like  Napoleon's  Simplon  Arch,  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  Crystal  Hills. 

During  the  summer,  every  train  on  this  section  of  the  line  is  provided  with 
one  or  more  observation-cars  with  open  sides,  from  which  clearer  views  can 
be  obtained  than  from  ordinary  passenger-cars,  while  the  cool  and  refreshing 
breezes  are  not  barred  out  by  envious  windows.  Of  late  years,  also,  a  new 
source  of  pleasure  has  been  found  by  the  dwellers  in  the  Eastern  cities  in 
forming  "autumn-leaf  parties,"  which  follow  this  route  to  observe  the  pano- 
ramic glories  of  the  hill-country,  emblazoned  with  the  richest  sunset  hues,  and 
enriched  by  the  most  gorgeous  and  fascinating  contrasts  of  colors. 


1 


JACOB'S  LADDER,  ON  THE  MOUNT-WASH- 
INGTON RAILWAY. 


S  the  train  ascends  the  long  slope  of  the  mountain,  its  progress 
is  so  slow,  that  the  traveller  can  comprehend  and  enjoy  the 
varying  and  ever-widening  landscapes  below,  where  glens  and 
plains  and  far-away  peaks  burst  into  view,  one  after  the  other, 
while  the  great  ravine  called  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  falls  away 
into  silent  and  sunless  depths  close  beside.  About  a  mile 
above  the  sea-level  the  track  runs  out  on  a  high  and  massive  trestle,  the  steep- 
est part  of  the  ascent,  where,  for  every  yard  that  the  train  advances,  it  must  rise 
also  a  foot.  0\'er  the  low  crags  of  Mount  Clay  the  cold  east  wind  breaks,  and 
agitates  the  dark  patches  of  undergrowth  below,  ccJiclonncd  about  the  head  of 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Slowly  the  quaint  little  engine  pushes  the  train  upward 
over  a  line  of  timbered  piers  heavy  enough  to  uphold  the  monster  locomotives 
which  roar  through  the  Raton  Pass,  while  a  sixfold  system  of  checks  is  ready 
to  bring  it  to  a  halt  at  any  moment.  The  dense  foliage  of  the  forests  below  ceases 
here,  and  gives  place  to  lichen-covered  rocks,  between  which  peep  clumps  of  saxi- 
frage and  reindeer-moss,  the  vegetation  of  Labrador  and  Lapland.  Within  an 
hour  the  train  has  run  from  the  temperate  zone  to  the  frigid  zone.  During 
the  remainder  of  the  ascent,  which  is  more  gradual,  the  desolation  increases, 
the  rocks  assume  an  ancient  and  storm-worn  appearance,  and  the  horizon  con- 
tinually grows  wider  and  more  inspiring,  until  at  last  the  superb  and  heart- 
stirring  prospect  includes  points  in  five  States  and  the  northern  viceroyalty. 

The  jxith  over  which  the  tourists  of  forty  years  ago  slowly  toiled,  while 
the  horn  of  T^ibyan  sounded  in  the  clouds  above,  made  a  sharp  ascent  near 
the  present  railway-trestle  ;  and  the  men  of  that  day,  still  tinctured  with  the 
Puritanism  of  the  morning  era,  ere  yet  (as  Lowell  saith)  New  England  had 
become  New  Ireland,  named  this  skyward  ascent  Jacob's  Ladder,  as  if,  per- 
chance, the  angels  of  God  might  have  been  seen  by  the  eye  of  faith  ascend- 
ing and  descending  thereon.  This  quaint  title  has  latterly  been  appropriated 
to  the  trestle,  over  which  the  toiling  trains  lift  from  six  to  eight  thousand 
easy-going  travellers  every  year.  Up  the  heights,  which  seem  impassable  to 
even  an  Ariel,  lightest  of  airy  spirits,  the  ponderous  locomotive  moves  onward 
with  its  convoy  of  crowded  cars  through  and  above  the  clouds,  until  it  stands 
upon  the  crest  which  even  the  icebergs  of  the  glacial  age  respected  and  stood 
aloof  from.  Only  twenty  years  have  passed  since  it  was  proposed  by  the 
legislators  of  New  Hampshire,  when  a  daft  and  impractical  inventor  asked  for 
a  charter  to  build  this  railroad,  to  so  amplify  the  terms  of  the  charter,  that 
he  might  extend  his  track  to  the  moon. 


LIZZIE  BOURNE'S  MONUMENT. 


HK  summer  tourist,  hoisted  to  the  main-top  of  New  England  by 
a  steam-elevator,  and  descending  on  the  other  side  over  a  broad 
white  road,  borne  breezily  down  in  a  comfortable  carriage,  can 
scarcely  realize,  that,  to  many  a  doomed  soul,  this  peak  has 
been  as  terrible  as  Sinai,  and  as  accursed  as  Ebal.  Some  of 
these  have  been  saved  as  by  miracle  ;  and  others,  wandering 
upward  over  vague  paths,  lost,  chilled,  and  panic-stricken,  have  breathed  their 
lives  out  into  the  frost-clouds,  and  left  their  bones  on  the  cold  black  rocks. 
Had  such  tragic  scenes  happened  among  the  Scottish  or  Rhenish  mountains, 
they  would  have  invested  the  fatal  peak  with  a  new  and  unfading  charm  of 
pathos  ;  but  in  our  more  active  life,  where  the  front  ranks  are  always  full  and 
advancing,  they  are  well-nigh  forgotten  within  a  twelvemonth. 

Yet  the  story  of  the  death  of  Miss  Lizzie  Bourne  can  never  pass  out  of 
memory,  and  is  known  to  all  who  enter  the  New-Hampshire  highlands.  She 
rambled  up  the  mountain,  one  bright  September  afternoon  in  1855,  with  her 
uncle  and  cousin,  and  was  tempted  to  try  the  ascent  to  the  Summit  House. 
The  twilight  came  down,  and  with  it  a  cloud  of  frosty  mist,  pierced  by  terrible 
winds  :  the  path  was  lost  ;  the  benighted  climbers  became  weary,  bruised,  and 
panic-stricken  ;  and  at  last  Miss  Bourne  sank  down  in  exhaustion,  and  died 
within  a  few  hours.  All  that  night  the  survivors  watched  by  her  body;  and  at 
morning  they  saw  (oh  the  pity  of  it  !)  that  their  fatal  bivouac  had  been  made 
within  five  hundred  feet  of  the  Summit  House,  where  they  might  have  found 
relief  and  warmth  and  life.  On  the  place  made  thus  sadly  famous  a  rude 
cairn  of  stones  was  raised,  and  still  remains,  to  remind  the  passengers  on  the 
railway  what  terrors  once  surrounded  this  huge  dark  peak.  Throughout  the 
long  winters  the  frost  decorates  the  monument  with  its  rarest  beauties  of 
feathery  forms,  as  if  in  eternal  penitence  for  its  fatal  attack  ;  and  the  black  pile 
is  converted  into  a  magnificent  mausoleum  white  as  Carrara  marble,  and 
carved  by  the  wind  into  forms  as  delicate  as  ever  issued  from  the  studios  of 
Florence. 


THE  GLEN  HOUSE. 


HO  does  not  remember  Raskin's  fervid  diatribe  against  the 
route-builders  in  a  certain  favorite  British  glen,  wherein  he 
says,  "You  enterprised  a  railroad  through  the  valley,  you 
blasted  its  rocks  away,  heaped  thousands  of  tons  of  shale  into 
its  lovely  stream.  The  valley  is  gone,  and  the  gods  with  it "  ? 
There  remains  but  one  great  hotel  in  the  White  Mountains 
where  the  grand  master  of  St.  George's  Company  could  find  congenial  repose, 
out  of  hearing  of  the  locomotive-whistle  ;  and  that  is  the  Glen  House,  far  up  in 
the  Pinkham  Notch,  at  the  western  base  of  the  Presidential  Range.  It  stands 
in  a  region  of  quiet  beauties,  white  cascades,  bright  pools  in  sunlit  streams, 
venerable  forests,  and  wonderful  ravines,  where  the  lone  peabody-bird's  cry 
pierces  the  silence  with  the  most  weird  and  mournful  of  sounds,  and  the  bright 
mountain-trout  dart  through  the  translucent  waters  of  the  rills.  In  front  of 
the  white  hotel  is  the  majestic  line  of  the  Presidential  Range  ;  and  behind  it 
rise  the  heavy  ridges  of  the  Carter  and  Wild-Cat  mountains,  bristling  with 
almost  impassable  forests,  and  rarely  visited  even  by  the  most  enthusiastic 
ali)estrians.  On  every  side  is  the  highest  grandeur  of  the  Crystal  Hills,  pre- 
eminent over  every  other  phase  of  Nature's  display,  whether  in  waving  leaf, 
or  laughing  water,  or  verdant  meadow;  yet,  while  overpowering  these  by  im- 
posing immensity,  sweetly  influenced  and  adorned  by  their  humbler  charms. 

No  hotel  in  the  mountain-region  is  so  secluded  as  the  Glen,  which  can  be 
api)roached  only  by  several  miles  of  stage-coach  riding.  The  narrow  thread 
of  light  running  against  the  right  edge  of  our  picture  represents  the  road  to 
North  Conway,  twenty  miles  away  ;  that  to  the  left,  close  to  the  hotel,  reaches 
Gorham  in  eight  miles  ;  and  the  curving  track  which  strikes  toward  the  lower 
right  corner  is  the  road  to  the  top  of  Mount  Washington,  eight  miles  distant, 
and  nearly  a  mile  overhead.  Here,  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  rises  the 
temple  of  Hygeia,  1,632  feet  above  the  sea-level,  amid  the  fragrant  zephyrs  of 
the  upland  woods  and  the  cool  shadows  of  the  high  gray  peaks.  At  any  time 
during  the  weeks  in  which  the  dog-star  rages  five  hundred  guests  may  be 
found  here;  while  the  splendid  stages  whirl  up  to  the  verandas  from  hour  to 
hour  with  new  accessions,  and  the  hotel-band  salutes  the  sombre  cliffs  with  the 
merriest  melodies  of  Strauss  and  Schumann.  Within  and  about  the  walls  are 
all  the  glad  activities  and  the  gladder  tranquillities  of  holiday  life  ;  without  arc 
the  sublimities  of  Nature, — mountains  grander  than  Helvellyn,  a  vale  wilder 
than  that  of  Blair  Athole,  and  virgin  forests  where  myriads  of  hamadryads 
still  abide. 


Thk  Gi,kx-Ei.i.ts  FAi,r.s. 


THE  GLEN-ELLIS  FALL. 


HE  Ellis  River  is  in  a  peculiar  sense  mountain-born  ;  for  its 
sources  lie  about  the  upper  shoulders  of  Mount  Washington, 
and  are  fed  from  vast  snow-banks  during  ten  months  of  the 
year.  Descending  from  these  silent  heights,  it  follows  the 
valley  in  which  the  Conway-Gorham  road  is  laid  for  about 
twelve  miles,  and  then  debouches  into  the  Saco  near  the 
serene  meadows  of  North  Conway.  About  an  hour's  walk  south  of  the  Glen 
House,  near  the  intersection  of  the  narrow  lanes  which  the  stream  and  the 
road  make  through  the  dark  forests  of  the  Pinkham  Notch,  the  Ellis  finds 
that  opportunity  for  fame  which  some  time  comes  to  all  streams  as  to  all  men. 
Nobly  does  it  improve  the  chance,  throwing  a  white  column  of  water  for 
seventy  feet  down  the  slant  face  of  a  rocky  cliff  with  a  roar  which  resounds 
til  rough  all  the  glen  ;  and  its  last  effort  is  a  shower  of  shimmering  spray, 
crowning  the  beryl-colored  pool  below  with  a  regalia  of  rainbow.  The  richest 
foliage  of  the  north  arches  towards  it  on  every  side,  bedewed  by  the  rising 
mist,  and  bathed  in  the  sunlight  flowing  through  the  opening  which  the  stream 
has  cut  ;  and  during  three-fourths  of  the  year  the  birds  and  squirrels  have  the 
scene  all  to  themselves,  and  their  voices  alone  join  that  of  the  plunging  river 
in  the  sweet  forest  symphony.  What  though  these  laughing  waters  must  in 
their  downward  course  drone  by  the  peaceful  and  prosy  hamlets  of  Western 
Maine,  and  be  overarched  by  many  a  thunderous  railway-bridge,  and  be  beaten 
into  weary  foam  by  the  wheels  of  Pepperell  and  Laconia  mills:  here,  at  least, 
they  are  free  and  gladsome,  and  send  up  such  acclaim,  that  Mount  Wild-Cat, 
towering  overhead,  sends  it  across  to  the  mighty  rock-ribbed  ridges  on  the 
west,  until  it  dies  away  in  soft  murmurs  among  the  ravines  beyond. 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  ago,  one  of  the  first  exploring-parties  to  the 
White  Hills  encamped  near  this  point  while  arranging  for  the  arduous  and 
dreaded  feat  of  ascending  Mount  Washington.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Jeremy  Belknap, 
the  early  historian  of  New  Hampshire,  was  of  their  number,  and  wrote  of 
"the  noble  falls,"  which  even  then  were  as  beautiful  as  to-day.  Among  his 
companions  were  .two  members  of  the  now  venerable  American  Academy  of 
Arts  and  Sciences, — the  Rev.  Daniel  Little  of  Kennebunk,  and  Dr.  Manasseh 
Cutler,  an  ex-chaplain  of  the  Revolutionary  army,  and  the  founder  of  Mari- 
etta, Ohio  ;  and  Col.  Joseph  Whipple,  the  feudal  lord  of  the  town  of  Jefferson, 
was  there;  and  Dr.  Joshua  Fisher  of  Beverly,  some  time  a  surgeon  in  the 
young  American  navy,  and  afterwards  founder  of  a  professorship  in  Harvard 
College. 


THE  PRESIDENTIAL  RANGE,  FROM  THE 

GLEN  HOUSE. 


HE  sailor  who  from  his  vessel's  deck  on  the  ocean  sees  the 
land-pile  of  the  White  Mountains  looming  against  the  north- 
western sky  can  scarce  realize  the  extent  and  altitude  of  the 
range,  which  from  certain  points  on  blue  water  is  hidden  even 
by  the  haunted  mound  of  Agamenticus.  Nor  is  the  effect  of 
the  peaks  worthy  of  their  magnitude  when  observed  from  the 
higliland  lakes,  Winnepesaukee  and  Sebago  ;  for  then  the  crest  of  Agiochook 
is  seen  but  for  a  short  space,  gliding  over  the  slopes  of  nearer  ridges.  The 
views  from  North  Conway  and  Lancaster  show  the  range  as  foreshortened, 
with  grand  effect  of  valley-framing  and  delicious  foregrounds,  but  losing- 
somewhat  from  distance  and  from  the  interposition  of  minor  heights.  Beth- 
lehem, Jefferson,  and  the  Fabyan  House  enjoy  the  fairest  of  the  outland  views, 
being  so  far  away  that  the  artistic  and  panoramic  ensemble  is  almost  perfect, 
and  fills  the  mind  with  dreamy  satisfaction. 

l^it  the  Glen  House  is  the  only  inhabited  point  from  which  the  five 
sovereign  peaks  appear  in  all  their  majesty  and  immensity,  close  at  hand, 
sweeping  in  a  vast  semicircle  half  way  around  the  place,  and  pushing  the 
western  horizon  up  into  mid-afternoon  of  a  summer's  day.  The  anatomy  of 
these  ancient  children  of  the  Earth  becomes  visible  in  all  its  details  of  rocky 
shoulders  and  firm-braced  supports,  proudly  uplifted  heads  beloved  by  the 
sunrise,  and  manifold  robes  of  forest  and  moss,  adorned  with  the  silvery 
jewels  of  the  rain-brooks  and  the  sparkling  gems  of  mica  and  quartz-crystals. 
It  is  a  scene  for  the  pen  of  Shelley  or  Poe,  this  magnificent  curve  of  rugged 
and  sharply-defined  peaks,  apparently  shutting  out  the  nineteenth  century 
from  this  quiet  glade,  and  making  it  forever  sacred  to  Greek  thought  and 
dim  Pantheistic  reveries. 

The  mountains  dignify  their  names  ;  and  the  founders  of  the  nation  are 
represented  side  by  side,  supporting  each  other,  as  in  the  first  American  era. 
These  stately  peaks  are  often  inwrapped  in  rolling  masses  of  gray  cloud,  which 
drift  across  their  dark  ledges,  and  hover  about  the  heads  of  the  ravines,  like 
the  wraiths  of  departed  spirits  of  the  heights,  or  sombre  exhalations  from 
the  legend-haunted  glens  ;  and,  on  the  marvellously  clear  days  which  follow 
storm,  they  stand  out  in  impressive  clearness  against  the  vivid  blue  sky,  and 
towards  evening  grow  purple  with  shadows  rising  from  the  mysterious  dark 
dei)ths  of  the  Great  Gulf. 


ECHO  LAKE,  FRANCONIA  NOTCH. 

MID  the  noble  brotherhood  of  green  peaks  called  the  Fran- 
conia  Mountains,  the  spirit  of  awful  mystery  is  petrified  in  the 
Profile,  grandeur  is  exemplified  in  the  vast  masses  of  Mount 
Lafayette  and  Cannon  Mountain,  and  weirdness,  singularity, 
the  grotesque  phases  of  Nature's  playful  moods,  are  manifested 
in  the  Flume  and  the  Pool.  But  the  culmination  of  pure  and 
simple  beauty,  the  crown  of  grace,  and  the  mirror  of  brightness,  appears  in 
Echo  Lake,  the  limpid  tarn  which  lies  in  the  northern  end  of  the  Notch,  high 
above  the  P^ranconian  plains.  The  highway  from  the  Profile  House  to  Littleton 
skirts  one  side  of  it,  and  the  ambitious  little  railway  from  Bethlehem  station  is 
on  the  opposite  shore  ;  but  both  are  hidden  by  the  luxuriant  forests  which 
sweep  down  on  all  sides,  save  where  the  boat-houses  rise  to  shelter  Franconia's 
mimic  navy.  On  the  east  are  bold  and  picturesque  cliffs,  rising  from  the 
shores,  and  bracing  the  lower  terraces  of  Mount  Lafayette  with  stupendous 
buttresses  of  rugged  rock,  draped  with  climbing  green  vines,  and  hanging  out 
the  banners  of  the  hardy  trees,  whose  roots  are  fixed  in  the  clefts  of  the  preci- 
pice. Glorious  tints  of  sunset  fall  upon  these  high  walls  and  mounting  pillars 
when  the  lake  below  has  been  shrouded  in  twilight,  and  the  night  is  approach- 
ing fi  om  the  eastern  sea.  At  that  hour  the  environs  of  Echo  Lake  are  endowed 
with  a  i)rofound  fascination,  and  fairly  glow  with  poetic  splendor,  while  scores 
of  glad-hearted  visitors  float  upon  the  glassy  waters  in  the  pretty  little  boats  of 
the  Profile-House  squadron.  Then,  too,  the  deep-toned  shouts  and  the  silvery 
laughter  of  the  evening  voyagers  are  thrown  back  by  the  cliffs  as  if  in  badinage; 
and  the  cannon  on  the  western  shore  is  fired  from  time  to  time  to  arouse  sterner 
reverberations,  rattling  back  from  Artist's  Bluff  and  Bald  Mountain,  and  swell- 
ing away  through  the  distant  ravines  in  a  sinking  surge  of  sound.  You  may 
close  your  eyes,  and  let  this  ominous  echo  bring  to  mind  the  iron  hail  of  Peters- 
burg or  Plevna  ;  but  to  the  quick  vision  the  scene  suggests  some  sweet  and 
sylvan  lakelet  in  an  Arcadia  of  the  Knickerbockers. 


THE  FRANCONIA  NOTCH,  ECHO  LAKE,  AND 
THE  PROFILE  HOUSE. 


IHEN  Fredrika  Bremer  contrasted  the  Franconia  region  with 
the  Swedish  districts  of  DalecarUa  and  Norsland,  she  gave 
great  praise  to  these  latter  by  the  simple  fact  of  the  comparison. 
The  ruling  charms  of  this  delightful  wilderness,  according  to 
the  gifted  Scandinavian  traveller,  are  not  its  rocks  and  moun- 
tains, its  chasms  and  ravines,  but  the  affluence  of  foliage,  and 
the  brightness  of  the  mountain-waters.  And  from  our  artist's  standpoint,  on 
the  top  of  Bald  Mountain,  less  than  two  miles  distant  from  the  Profile  House, 
these  two  excellent  traits  of  the  Franconia  region  are  visible  as  from  no  other 
place.  In  comparison  with  the  stupendous  mass  of  Mount  Lafayette,  rising 
far  into  the  heavens,  close  at  hand,  the  craggy  knoll  of  Bald  Mountain  appears 
almost  insignificant ;  and  yet  it  rises  very  picturesquely  above  the  blue  lake 
below,  and  looks  far  out  over  the  Green  Mountains  of  Vermont  and  the  deli- 
cious valleys  which  extend  towards  Lancaster.  On  the  south  is  the  fair  bosom 
of  l^cho  Lake,  that  brightest  gem  of  the  mountains,  whose  waters  are  of  the 
most  exquisite  purity  and  clearness,  and  are  furrowed  throughout  the  summer 
by  a  flotilla  of  pretty  pleasure-boats.  Although  Starr  King  ranked  this  moun- 
tain-tarn above  even  the  Profile  itself,  as  the  chief  attraction  of  Franconia,  it  is 
evident  that  he  could  not  have  rowed  out  upon  its  waters,  since  he  describes  it 
witli  much  detail  as  emptying  into  the  Pemigewasset ;  thence  to  pass  into  the 
Merrimac,  and  move  the  wheels  of  Nashua  and  Lowell.  In  point  of  fact,  the 
stream  seeks  the  beach-levels  through  the  Ammonoosuc  and  Connecticut  Rivers. 

Beyond  the  lake  is  an  expanse  of  dense  green  forest,  amid  which  the  high 
white  sides  of  the  Profile  House  rise  like  a  palace  of  Aladdin,  and,  to  the  minds 
of  the  initiated,  radiating  a  certain  warmth  of  human  life  and  luxury  throughout 
the  cold  and  silent  wilderness.  Beyond  is  the  Franconia  Notch,  stretching 
away  under  line  after  line  of  gray-topped  ridges,  and  glorified  at  evening  by  the 
level  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  which  surge  magnificently  up  the  defile,  while 
the  shadows  of  the  western  peaks  rise  higher  and  higher  on  the  opposite  walls. 

More  than  any  other  pass  in  the  White  Mountains  this  has  called  forth 
the  loving  praises  of  our  authors,  and  the  brilliant  chapters  of  Mr.  Prime  still 
form  its  best  description.  l':ven  Harriet  Martineau,  who  was  so  chary  of 
eulogy  for  all  things,  natural,  human,  or  superhuman,  found  the  word  "noble  " 
the  only  one  to  apply  here,  and  uttered  it  with  a  right  good  heart.  Looking 
over  the  bright  expanse  of  Echo  Lake,  the  pictured  cliffs,  the  rich-hued  forests, 
we  find  a  more  appropriate  adjective,  and  call  the  scene,  in  all  its  aspects  and 
suggestions,  simply  beautiful. 


'I'nE  Pkofilk,  or  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain. 


THE  PROFILE,  FRANCONIA  NOTCH. 


IHERE  the  road  passes  Profile  Lake,  near  the  Profile  House,  a 
[,aiicle-board  directs  the  attention  upward,  and  one  of  the  most 
'  impressive  sights  of  all  this  region  of  wonders  bursts  upon  the 
I  vision.  There,  on  the  side  of  the  opposing  mountain,  more  than 
a  thousand  feet  above  the  road,  and  vividly  outlined  against  the 
sky,  is  the  semblance  of  a  colossal  human  profile,  with  an 
expression  of  intense  weariness  and  melancholy,  as  if  some  heaven-defying 
Prometheus  of  the  West  had  been  chained  to  the  red  rocks  of  Mount  Cannon 
until  the  hardness  of  his  heart  was  reflected  by  the  petrifaction  of  his  head. 
This  is  the  great  Profile,  which  for  over  seventy  years  has  been  gazed  upon, 
with  varying  emotions,  by  many  myriads  of  travellers.  For  the  slaves  of  the 
guide-book,  who  feel  it  their  solemn  duty  to  **do"  every  thing  therein  spoken 
of,  any  hour  will  suffice  ;  but  the  reverent  pilgrim  of  Nature  approaches  this 
])oint  of  view  only  at  late  afternoon,  when  the  great  face  is  vividly  outlined 
against  the  crimson  glories  of  the  western  sky,  and  its  pathetic  and  expectant 
expression  aptly  combines  with  the  sadness  of  declining  day.  For  thousands 
of  years  that  grim  simulacrum  has  faced  the  driving  sleet  of  winter  and  the 
quivering  lightnings  of  summer  with  silent  patience  and  monumental  faith; 
and  has  looked  down  upon  the  red  Indians,  countless  as  the  leaves  of  the  for- 
est, as  they  poured  down  from  the  remote  West  upon  the  rolling  plains  of  the 
New-l!:ngland  wilderness  before  the  dawn  of  American  history.  There  are, 
indeed,  traditions  that  the  aborigines  used  to  offer  a  rude  form  of  worship  here 
as  to  a  symbol  of  Manitou  himself,  kindling  their  sacrificial  fires  on  the  shores 
of  the  crystalline  lake  below.  But  these  Druid  rites  could  not  avail  to  save 
the  doomed  race;  for  during  Queen  Anne's  War  the  pale  rangers  of  Massachu- 
setts destroyed  their  last  hamlet  of  wigwams  on  the  banks  of  the  Pemige- 
wassct,  and  the  crash  of  the  Puritan  volleys  re-echoed  from  the  rocky  brow  of 
the  mountain-visage.  Then  came  the  measured  and  resistless  advance  of  the 
Anglo-American  race,  following  the  same  order  of  battle  which  has  conquered 
CaiTraria,  New  Zealand,  and  America,  —  first  the  hunters  and  trappers,  then 
the  i^ioneers  and  farmers,  then  the  tourists,  and  at  last  the  railway-builders. 
Shattering  the  primeval  silence  of  the  Gale-River  Valley,  and  filling  the  ravines 
of  Mount  Lafayette  with  smoke  and  roaring,  the  iron  steeds  now  pause  within 
a  mile  of  the  Great  Stone  Face,  and  ere  long  will  descend  the  Pcmigewassct 
Valley  on  their  levelled  bands  of  steel. 


Thk  Klume. 


THE  FLUME. 


I  lie  Flume  House  occupies  a  very  beautiful  situation  on  a 
terrace  at  the  southern  end  of  the  Franconia  Notch,  and  over- 
looks the  extensive  vistas  of  the  Pemigewasset  Valley,  whose 
scenery  is  so  widely  famous  for  its  pastoral  beauty  and  idyllic 
grace.  During  the  long,  bright  days  of  summer,  the  Campton 
lowlands  are  drenched  with  sunshine,  and  glorious  in  color ;  and 
tlie  bright  stream  Hows  downward  thereby,  offering  its  crystal  refreshment  to 
the  dreamy-eyed  cattle,  as  it  had  given  it  to  the  mountain-bears  above. 

It  is  less  than  a  mile  from  the  hotel  to  the  great  natural  curiosity  from 
which  it  derives  its  name,  and  the  road  stops  at  the  long  ledges  which  rise  like 
a  <^Iacis  to  the  castle-gate  above.  There  the  wonderful  chasm  begins,  and 
extends  along  the  flank  of  the  mountain  for  seven  hundred  feet,  with  a  width 
of  from  ten  to  twenty  feet,  and  a  depth  of  nearly  sixty  feet.  On  either  side 
are  perpendicular  walls  of  granite,  prolonged  by  the  tall  shafts  of  the  forest- 
trees  above,  and  overarched  by  a  green  canopy  of  foliage;  while  the  floor  of 
the  gorge  is  littered  by  fragments  of  rock,  amongst  which  purls  and  babbles 
the  rill  from  tlie  icy  reservoirs  above.  Rich  mosses,  freshened  by  the  exhala- 
tions from  below,  form  a  graceful  cornice  to  the  walls,  and  adorn  their  sides 
witli  bits  of  vivid  tapestry ;  and  summer-day  visitors,  sauntering  along  the 
phmk-walk  which  lies  by  the  brookside,  enjoy  the  comforting  dampness  and 
coolness  of  the  sunless  depths,  no  matter  what  the  heat  in  the  valley  outside. 

Here  I  have  met  Fmerson,  the  sphynx  of  Concord,  rambling  solitary 
among  the  trees,  and  doubtless  spiritually  attended  by  a  kindred  group  of 
ancient  sages,  as  old  as  Ilesiod,  or  at  least  as  Plato,  while  he  mused  upon  what 
he  has  so  mystically  called  "the  good  rocks,  those  patient  waiters."  Starr 
King,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  of  the  earlier  visitors  to  the  Flume,  insisted 
that  every  one  who  wished  to  see  it  properly  should  go  alone,  ''quietly,  and 
with  reverence  for  the  Spirit  out  of  whose  perennial  bounty  all  beauty  pours." 

If  this  brook-worn  gorge  thus  suffices  to  amaze  and  attract  us,  what  should 
we  say  of  that  vast  and  terrible  Stygian  river  on  the  other  side  of  our  conti- 
nent, where  for  hundreds  of  miles  the  Colorado  rolls  its  black  waters  along  the 
bottom  of  a  cleft  in  the  rocky  vestment  of  the  earth,  between  perpendicular 
banks  a  mile  high,  silent,  lifeless,  sepulchral,  and  traversing  the  lands  of  an 
extinct  nation  }  But  immensity  does  not  secure  a  proportionate  notice  among 
men,  else  the  Yukon,  rolling  its  huge  floods  through  the  Alaska  lowlands, 
should  be  famous,  and  the  tiny  Ilissus,  flowing  hard  by  the  Athenian  Acropolis, 
should  be  unknown  :  wherefore  we  may  prize  this  little  rocky  corridor  of  New 
iMigland  above  the  empire-dividing  chasm  of  New  Spain. 


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